


No Hero (No Less Loved)

by RetroactiveCon



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Barry Allen has ADHD, Developing Relationship, Dom/sub, Enemies to Lovers, Feelings Realization, House Cleaning, Hurt Barry Allen, Hurt Leonard Snart, Leonard Snart is Bad at Feelings, M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:54:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 17,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22513591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RetroactiveCon/pseuds/RetroactiveCon
Summary: “Oh, Lenny! Have you been showing off for your little brat?”“No!” Leonard considers. He got the cold gun for practical reasons and upped his Captain Cold persona to establish his dominance in a newly superpowered city. He isn’t pulling increasingly more grandiose heists to impress the Flash, merely to outwit him. Or…is he?
Relationships: Barry Allen/Leonard Snart
Comments: 140
Kudos: 435





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [trinipedia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trinipedia/gifts).



> Extremely belatedly, here's a sequel to [The Hero Always Gets the Guy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21619954) in which Barry and Len do the feelings realization-and-negotiations steps.

Leonard finds himself thinking idly of Barry as he goes about his week—whether he’s healed from Mardon’s attack, whether he had to face Mardon in court in a CSI capacity, and whether he meant what he said as Leonard carried him. (And he needs to stop that thought in its tracks whenever it arises, because no. The kid was out of his head. There’s no way he wants an old thief to steal him, and there’s no reason Leonard should care if he did.)

After the tenth or twelfth time he thinks of Barry’s earnest “You know the hero always gets the guy,” he decides he needs to pull a heist to get the kid out of his system. There’s nothing like an adrenaline rush to clarify things one way or another. 

He has no reason to break into Mayor Bellows’ office, except to prove that he can. He deliberately trips the alarm; then he sits and waits. 

Three minutes tick by, long enough that Leonard fears the police will arrive before the Flash. He’s on his feet and about to leave when the crackle of lightning fills the room. “Finally,” he drawls. “I could have been here and gone in three minutes, Flash.”

The kid stares at him with wide, sightless eyes. Leonard is moving before he collapses and just saves him from crumpling to the floor. What the fuck is he doing? “Easy, Flash,” he murmurs. “Come on. Wake up.”

It would be so easy to spread the kid out on the ground, put an icicle through his heart, and never have to worry about the scarlet nuisance again. But with the kid unconscious and vulnerable in his arms, murder is the last thing on his mind. When did he get so weak for the little scarlet brat?

“Wake up,” he urges again. “Come on, Flash. What have you done to yourself?”

Barry’s eyes flutter open. As soon as he’s awake enough to register where he is, he bolts to his feet. In his haste, he stumbles and almost falls a second time. Leonard steadies him. 

“What have you done to yourself, Scarlet?”

“Nothing!” The kid holds up his fists in a sloppy guard. He’s two seconds from passing out again—Leonard can see it in his hazy eyes. “You wanna fight? I’ll fight you!” 

“You’re not gonna fight anyone.” Leonard shakes his head, as much at his own behavior as the kid’s. He came here hoping to toughen up this absurd soft spot he has for the kid—instead, here he is fussing over him. What kind of criminal has he become? “You’re gonna run back to your little team and have them look you over. Imagine if you’d come up against a less forgiving villain.”

Barry sways drunkenly. Leonard cradles his elbow to keep him upright. “Run home, little hero,” he orders. “I’ll be good for once and leave.”

Reluctantly, Barry flashes away. Leonard watches him go; then, with sirens wailing in the background, he makes his great escape.

***

Through a combination of bad luck, lack of heists, and Lisa’s interference, Leonard goes a month without seeing Barry. That doesn’t mean he stops thinking about him. Finally, after referencing ‘this little brat’ for the hundredth time, Lisa asks, “So do you have a crush on ‘this little brat’?”

“I don’t get _crushes,”_ Leonard says coldly. 

Lisa rolls her eyes. “Do I have to bring up your ill-fated _crush—”_ She matches Leonard’s emphasis “—on Lincoln back when I was in fifth grade? Because you got heart eyes every time he drove by our house. You would deliberately go out and work on your motorcycle and try to look badass.” Her face lights up with unseemly glee. “Oh, Lenny! Have you been showing off for your little brat?”

“No!” Leonard considers. He got the cold gun for practical reasons and upped his Captain Cold persona to establish his dominance in a newly superpowered city. He isn’t pulling increasingly more grandiose heists to _impress_ the Flash, merely to outwit him. Or…is he?

Of course, Lisa can read this revelation in his face. “You totally are!” 

“Shut your mouth, trainwreck.” It’s the snappiest comeback he can muster when she’s demonstrably correct. He _has_ been flirting with the Flash. Now the question becomes: has the Flash been flirting back?—No, no, of course not. The kid swore to fight him while about to collapse from exhaustion. That isn’t flirtation; it’s loathing. 

“You adorable disaster,” Lisa teases. “I’m going to hunt down this little brat of yours and ask him to date you.”

“No!” Leonard snaps. Lisa doesn’t know Barry is the Flash, but if they ever meet, it won’t take her long to deduce. “You’ll scare him off. I’ll do this my own way.” 

“You mean by doing nothing?” Lisa demands. He ignores her. He’ll make a move in his own time and his own way.


	2. Chapter 2

As Lisa predicted, Leonard does nothing. He engages the Flash twice more in thrilling escapades that leave him high on adrenaline long after they’re done. Once, heart pounding and every nerve alight with energy, he almost pulls the little scarlet brat into a kiss. Afterward, he chastises himself. This has gone too far if he’s thinking of forcing himself on a kid half his age. 

Things come to a head the night of the Santini Cabin Debacle. To be fair, Leonard isn’t technically stealing. The Santinis broke into one of his safe houses and stole a painting he was preparing to fence. He’s reclaiming what is (illegally) his. Barry, naturally, doesn’t see things the same way. 

“Are you suicidal, Snart, or do you just really like to push your luck?” 

Barry stands in the doorway to the cabin, snow eddying around him. His cheeks are as red as his suit—wind-burned, no doubt. Running through the snow at high speeds can’t be comfortable. 

“They’re out of town,” Leonard drawls. He makes no attempt to hide the painting in his hands. If Barry wants to take it from him, he’s welcome to try. “Anyway, I’m stealing it _back._ They tried to kidnap what I rightfully stole.”

A reluctant smile breaks through Barry’s righteous façade. “I can’t believe you’re quoting Princess Bride at me.” 

“Now if you’ll excuse me, Scarlet, I’m on a deadline.” He knows Barry won’t let him go without a fight. Still, it’s the show of bravado they’ve both come to expect by now. 

“You’re meeting with your fence?” Barry guesses. In fact, he’s correct. Leonard can’t let him know that. 

“No. Unlike certain cold-susceptible speedsters, I looked at the forecast.” 

He sees the flicker of lightning a millisecond before the painting is snatched from his hands. Barry stops in the doorway. He’s too invested in their…is it flirting?. . .to run away. “You’ll just steal it again,” he quips before racing out the door. The door hasn’t yet swung shut when there’s a pained yelp. Against his better judgment, Leonard steps out onto the porch. 

“Flash?”

Barry is sprawled on the ground, both red-gloved hands wrapped around his calf. The painting lies in the snow, fallen as though it kept traveling at speed even when Barry fell. If it’s damaged, Leonard might have to kill him. “Careful,” the kid quips, voice tight. “It’s icy.” 

Leonard picks his way across the icy path to Barry’s side. He doesn’t have to feign concern for the painting—it’s a relief to pick it up and find it intact. He _does_ have to restrain himself from cooing at the kid. “What happened?”

Barry levers himself into a sitting position. He stretches his injured leg out in front of him, which gives Leonard an alarming view of a lump that might be bone. “I slipped,” he mutters. “I think it’s broken.” 

“I daresay,” Leonard agrees. 

Wind howls around them. The snow turns from pretty little swirls to thick, slanting curtains. Leonard glances at his watch. It’s earlier than the forecast predicted, but what is he to do? He can’t chide the clouds for upsetting his plans. “All right, Flash. You’ll freeze solid out here, and I don’t have a way to get you back to the city for help. Come here.”

It’s a testament to Barry’s pain that he slips his arms around Leonard’s shoulders without question and submits to being helped into the cabin. When they reach the stairs, Leonard sets him gently in a snowbank. “I’m going to take the painting inside,” he says. It occurs to him that he could cut and run, but not with Barry this dependent on him. “I’ll be right back.”

It takes seconds to duck into the house and set the painting aside. Even in that short period of time, Barry starts to shiver. When Leonard helps him to his feet, the kid nuzzles into his side, looking for warmth. 

“Easy,” Leonard murmurs. Without asking, he scoops the kid into his arms. Barry makes a soft, pained sound and burrows closer to him. “You’re freezing, Scarlet.” 

“How you like me best.” The kid hides his face in Leonard’s shoulder. He uncurls only once they’re inside the cabin. “I’m okay. I’ll heal in a minute.”

“Which is a problem.” Leonard settles him on the counter. Some illogical part of him wants to make Barry comfortable on the sofa, but that would be counterproductive. If the kid heals as fast as he says, they need to set the bone immediately. There isn’t enough room or stability on the sofa. “You heal like that, you’ll have to re-break it as soon as you’re back with your little team.” 

The kid’s face goes sheet-white. “I would prefer it if that didn’t happen?” 

In a less urgent context, Leonard would tease him—for his tone, for the situation, for the possibility that he’ll owe a favor for Leonard’s assistance. In this case, he doesn’t have the time. “I’m gonna need to take off your suit.” 

Barry musters a weak little giggle. “Buy me dinner first.”

Leonard narrows his eyes. “I mean it, kid. This will go better for both of us if I can tell what I’m doing. So you can tell me how the suit comes off or I’ll figure it out myself.” 

Barry takes off the cowl and tips his head back to regard the ceiling. “It’s two pieces. There’s a fly on the lower part.” 

In no iteration of Leonard’s plan (and he had at least a dozen) did he factor in undressing his nemesis on a kitchen counter. Nor did he factor in that nemesis staring at him while he does it. “I’m not gonna peek,” he promises, feeling oddly defensive. Yes, he’s developed an embarrassing crush on Barry. Yes, there was the almost-kissing-him fiasco. No, he’s not going to take advantage of a kid, especially not when the kid in question has broken bones. 

“I didn’t say you would.” Some of the color returns to Barry’s cheeks. Leonard doubts it will stay there long—setting a bone is a painful, painstaking process—but it’s good to see. 

“There’s no time to look for the Santinis’ stores of opiates, but will you drink alcohol if I give it to you?” He doesn’t ask ‘are you even old enough’; he knows perfectly well that Barry is legal. 

“Won’t do anything.” Barry sinks back onto the counter. It’s wise of him not to watch. “I’d just burn through it. Flash metabolism, and all.” 

In that case, even the Santinis’ drugs might not be strong enough. Leonard’s heart aches for the kid. He’s had to have bones reset with nothing but a mouthful of cheap liquor to dull the pain; he knows what Barry is about to endure. “Okay,” he says. Then, affecting a conversational tone, he asks, “So how did you find me? I disabled the satellite updates, so you can’t ping the gun. Do you just have a really good sense for when I’m up to mischief?” 

“If I told you—” Barry starts. As soon as he begins to talk, Leonard shifts the broken bone. He snapped both bones; the tibial break feels clean, if displaced, but his fibula seems to have shattered. This is going to be unpleasant. “N-no, I changed my mind, I want Caitlin to do it.”

“You can’t run there on this.” Leonard should probably get the kid something to bite down on. “And let me guess, the reason you don’t want to have to rebreak it is that your team at STAR Labs don’t have painkillers that work for you, either?”

Barry opens his mouth to respond. As soon as he does, Leonard slots the tibia back into place. The kid makes a choked scream that sounds as though he half-swallowed his tongue. 

“Easy,” Leonard soothes again. “That part’s over. This next part shouldn’t be so bad.” He’s lying, of course, but he hopes the kid believes him. “Come on, then. Tell me how you found me.”

Barry draws in a shallow breath and swipes tears away from his eyes. “Y-your cold gun gives off a thermal signature. We can…”

Leonard slots the two ends of the fibula back into place. Barry gasps and flings out his hands as though he’s looking for something to hold. 

“Shh.” Leonard works the third piece of bone back into place. He keeps his movements slow and sure—if he moves too quickly, he risks breaking off fragments and scattering them into the tissue. “Almost done. There you go.” 

The kid struggles to sit up. Leonard knocks him back down. “I’m gonna guess your speed healing isn’t instantaneous. Stay still while I find something for a splint.” 

Obediently, Barry stays on the counter. While Leonard rummages through drawers in search of gauze (or, failing that, something to tear up), the kid asks, “Why didn’t you leave me?” 

Because, against all common sense, he’s gone and fallen in love with him. Leonard won’t say that, of course. His feelings are his problem; he doesn’t need to force them on a kid. “I like our little game, Barry.” His voice betrays him, turns low and soft and fond on the kid’s name. He forges on, hopes Barry doesn’t notice. “I steal, you chase me, I fight back, we both walk away riding an adrenaline high better than any drug. You die of hypothermia, my life would be boring.” 

“Mhmm.” Barry sounds distinctly unimpressed. “That’s it? It isn’t that you didn’t want to leave me to die because you have more of a heart than you want to admit?”

Leonard finally finds a roll of gauze. On the way back to the counter, he grabs a ruler for the splint. “I told you, Barry, I’m not a good man. I’m a criminal and a murderer, and you’re a foolhardy little hero who’s completely at my mercy.” He emphasizes the point by pressing lightly on Barry’s broken leg. It isn’t hard enough to shift the bones, but it’s enough to cause the kid pain. “So now isn’t the time to push me.” 

Barry doesn’t reply. He stays still and quiet while Leonard splints his leg. After the bandages are tightly wrapped, he murmurs, “We’re trapped here, aren’t we?” 

“Well, until your leg heals, at least.” Leonard scoops the kid in his arms, carries him to the sofa, and swaddles him in a throw blanket. Barry watches him with those big doe eyes. 

“Why do you keep doing that?”

“Doing what?” Leonard perches on the arm of the sofa, well away from the kid. If he sits too close, he won’t be able to resist the temptation to touch him. This is doubly appalling, not only because Barry is his nemesis but because Leonard doesn't like touch. 

“Carrying me.” Barry fidgets with the blanket. “Just now, into the house…when Mardon concussed me…”

Leonard arches an eyebrow. “You remember that?”

“Sort of.” Barry fixes his gaze firmly on the blanket. “I…I think I said I would let you, um. Steal me. Something about you saved me so you deserved it.” 

Leonard could tell him no, that he was concussed, that he’s misremembering. That would be the easy, manipulative route. He won’t do it; he knows too well what it’s like to be made to doubt accurate memories. “It was something like that.”

“So why do you keep carrying me?” Barry presses. 

“For the fastest man alive, you’re frustratingly slow sometimes.” This is both a defense of Leonard’s sudden habit of scooping the kid and a lament that Barry seems utterly oblivious to the reason. He doesn’t expect the kid to notice the second part, which is why he’s all the more surprised when Barry ventures, 

“What, you mean to notice that you like me?” 

Leonard should scoff something derisive, get up, and put as much distance between them as he can. Unfortunately, he can’t think of anything suitably scathing until too much time has elapsed. The kid tilts his head. “You do like me, don’t you?” 

“What are you hoping I’ll say?” Leonard sneers. He can’t look at the kid while he says it. He doesn’t need Barry’s pity, and he can’t bear his rejection. “‘Yes, kid, I’m fucking head over heels for you and I don’t know what to do?’ We both know it doesn’t work like that.”

“Why not?” Barry stretches his leg out in front of him. Judging by his wince, his alleged healing abilities are slower than he’d prefer. 

“Occupations? Ages? Predispositions?” Leonard shrugs. The list is as much for his benefit as Barry’s—his fascination with the kid is reckless, _foolish,_ and he needs to remember that. “Nothing about us is compatible, so how about you just forget this conversation ever happened.”

“I don’t believe that.” Barry doesn’t know when to back off. That isn’t new information, but for once in his too-short life, the kid should shut his mouth and let it go. “You’re not as cold as you want me to believe—”

“You don’t get to _fix_ me,” Leonard snarls. He shouldn’t have let this conversation start. He wants to go back to ten minutes ago, when the kid was soft and vulnerable and he was uncharacteristically invested in caring for him. “I’m not your project, and if that’s what you’re hoping for—”

“It isn’t!” Barry’s temper flares. “I don’t want to make you my _project._ I’ve had partners whose only goal was to fix me, okay? I know how shitty it feels. I just want _you_ —Leonard Snart, not Captain Cold.” 

Leonard recoils as though Barry has struck him. (In fact, he might prefer a physical blow.) Except Lisa and Mick, no one has ever wanted him. People fear and respect the Captain Cold persona, but Leonard Snart is just an obsessive pickpocket from the wrong side of town—nobody wants him, and nobody should. 

“I don’t want to push,” Barry murmurs. He reaches out to Leonard. It’s cute how quickly he recoils when Leonard shifts away from the touch. “I just don’t want you, y’know, thinking you don’t have a chance. Because you do. If you…want it.” 

He doesn’t want it. If he takes the chance Barry is oh-so-naively offering him, he’ll shatter the kid’s heart and possibly worse. There’s too much of Lewis in him; he can’t be trusted with a relationship. “No.” 

The kid curls in on himself. “I think my leg is healed,” he says. His voice is too bright, too tight. Leonard can’t make any sense of the sudden change in topic. “Do you want me to run you back to town or leave you here?” 

“Might as well run me. If you fall on the way, who’s gonna patch you back up?”

“Okay, but I’m taking the painting.” 

Leonard can’t stop him; the kid is too fast. He merely grumbles, “Of course you are,” and submits to being run back to town. The next thing he knows, he’s been deposited in the lobby of the CCPD, sans cold gun and with a large red bow planted firmly atop his head. Damn the kid. It’s little things like this that make Leonard love him…even if he hates the two-day nuisance of escaping from Iron Heights.


	3. Chapter 3

By now, the guards are so familiar with Leonard’s antics that, when they realize they can’t catch him, they wave and flick him off. He waves in return and continues with his escape plan, which includes hunkering down in a two-room bungalow in one of Central City’s more impoverished suburbs. He remains there for three days undisturbed. On the fourth day, Lisa appears in the kitchen, brandishing bagels and coffee. 

“They’re from the little mom and pop shop you like,” she pronounces before he can ask. That’s not good. She only bribes him with high-quality food when she wants something. He can’t dissuade her (Lord knows he’s tried), so he accepts the bagel and plops wearily down beside her. 

“All right, spit it out, Lise.” 

She slurps noisily at her coffee. “So did you run into the Flash, or were your efforts to woo your little brat so bad that he called the cops on you?” 

Both. He can’t say that, so he opts for the less humiliating answer. “The Flash caught me stealing back that painting the Santinis took.”

Lisa narrows her eyes. “Of course he did. You gave him hell for it, I assume?”

“Well.” Leonard nibbles his bagel. It’s blueberry—something is definitely amiss. Lisa usually gets him a plain one and tells him to do with it as he pleases. “He was running on a broken leg when he took me to prison.” 

Lisa’s eyebrows twitch. “He’s more determined than I give him credit for.”

Leonard feigns indifference. “I don’t know if he’s bright enough to know he was hurt.” The memory of Barry’s pained noises makes his heart clench painfully in his chest. He hopes Lisa can’t tell. 

She makes a motion as though pushing his words aside. It’s a sign she’s picked up from Hartley—‘forget it’ or ‘never mind,’ Hartley has explained. “I didn’t come here to talk about your ongoing feud with the Flash. I came here to ask if you made any progress with your little brat boy.” 

Fleetingly, Leonard entertains the thought that she knows and simply enjoys watching him try to keep it a secret. She’s certainly devious enough, but he’d like to believe he isn’t that obvious. “We talked, and…”

By the time he reaches the end of his discussion with Barry, Lisa has buried her face in her hands. “You absolute moron,” she laments. “He didn’t mean ‘if you want it’ like ‘if you want to take a chance,’ he meant ‘if you want _me’_ and you told him no. Of _course_ he was heartbroken! He poured out his little innocent heart to you and you said you didn’t want him.”

This is, if anything, further confirmation of why Leonard shouldn’t get involved with the kid. He’s likely to say something thoughtless and irrevocably damage the heart Barry so carelessly wears on his sleeve. “How was I supposed to know that?”

She sighs and cradles his face. “You don’t have a shred of emotional intelligence, so I don’t know, Lenny. All I can tell you is that you should have, and now you have to apologize and tell him how very much he means to you.”

Leonard arches an eyebrow, delicately disdainful. “And how do you propose I do that? By taking a beating on his behalf or giving him one?” 

Lisa narrows her eyes. “By using your words like everybody else does.” When he rolls his eyes, she scolds, “Lenny, it’s been something like thirty years since you were under Dad’s roof. If you still haven’t learned how not to express love with your fists, that’s on you.” 

“What do you want me to say, Lise? ‘I’m sorry I broke your heart, but if we try to date I’ll do it at least five times a day’? ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you, I just don’t know how to handle love without pain’?” He shouldn’t take out his irritation on her. She’s right; he’s had years to learn something resembling a healthy way to love. That doesn’t mean he wants to admit he’s avoided love for thirty-something years out of fear. 

“Well, that might be a start.” Lisa picks at her pastry. “Tell him up front why you’re worried. Let him tell you he’s willing to work with you. Then believe him, or try to, anyway.” 

Leonard won’t. It isn’t Barry’s job to accommodate his problems, especially because he knows the kid would if given half a chance. 

“Lenny.” She lays a hand on his. “Give your little brat a chance. He’ll be good for you, I think, if you let him.” 

That’s part of the problem. Barry is so recklessly hopeful that he’ll keep giving Leonard chances even with his heart in tatters. Leonard was never hopeful, not the way Barry is, but he knows too well what it’s like to love obstinately, despite pain. “He’s too good for me, Lise. If I hurt him…”

“If you hurt him, you’ll answer to me.” She pats him on the hand. “But at least give him the respect of telling him all this. Let him do with it as he will.” 

Leonard won’t. But then, he said that about making a move, and this is where he’s gotten himself. “…All right.”

“Great!” Lisa drains the last of her coffee. “Now come on. I wanna talk to you about getting some new bling.”

Finally, a conversation he can tolerate. “What did you have in mind?”


	4. Chapter 4

‘Getting some new bling’ involves hitting a high-end antiques store. (Never let it be said his sister doesn’t have good taste.) It also involves a chase with the Flash, who’s uncharacteristically rough. In the space of a second, Leonard finds himself pinned to the wall in a nearby alley, face-to-face with a furious Barry Allen. 

“Really?” Barry snarls. “After the cabin? It didn’t even _register_ for you, did it? You can take care of me like that one day and shoot at me the next.”

“This isn’t personal, kid.” Leonard has seen the kid in a righteous fury before; he’s never seen him this betrayed. Poor kid actually thought they connected in the cabin. “Just business.”

“Like carrying me and resetting my leg and telling me you had feelings for me was ‘just business.’” Barry presses him more tightly against the wall. The rough brick drags over the back of Leonard’s head. He’ll have a nice scrape on his scalp as a memento of this unfortunate encounter. “I thought maybe you’d have the decency to lay low after that, but no. You’re taunting me.” 

“Told you, that’s not what this is.” Leonard’s heart beats a stirring rhythm in his chest. He’s still wired from the chase—every sensation is brighter, sharper, than it would otherwise be. It makes the lightning intensity in Barry’s eyes and the breathless gape of his little pink mouth feel obnoxiously urgent. “I’m a thief. I steal things. Get used to it.” 

“And I told you I can forgive that, but this feels like you’re fucking _flaunting_ how little you actually care!” Barry’s clutching hands dig into his shoulders. For the first time, Leonard appreciates how much the kid holds himself back when they fight. Right now, if only in passing, it feels like Barry wants to and could kill him. All that energy needs redirected, so Leonard does the most impulsive thing he can think of: he grabs the back of the kid’s head and hauls him into a kiss. 

It’s no sweet, tender first kiss. It’s static-sharp, the taste of ozone thick on his tongue and the pop-rocks crackle of electricity against his lips. Barry sinks unforgiving teeth into his lower lip, bites his mouth open, and licks inside. Leonard gives as good as he gets but always feels one step behind, a little too slow in the relentless rush of the kiss. 

“Well that explains a lot.”

Lisa. Fuck. They break apart as though she’s given both of them a hearty shock. Barry goes to zip—out of the alley? Or to capture them both? Before he can move, Lisa points her gun at him. “So you’re Lenny’s little brat. With the amount he’s told me about you, you’d think I’d have guessed.” 

Leonard gapes, still slack-jawed and breathless from the kiss. He didn’t plan on Barry kissing him like that. Since he did, though, all Leonard can think about is getting more of that immediately. “Lise…”

“I have to say, Lenny, I’m impressed. It’s not every guy who manages to break the heart of a cute little hero.” She strolls closer. Barry retreats half a step before deciding to stand his ground. “A word of advice, cutie. My brother is head over heels for you, even if he has some odd ways of showing it.” This is said with a glower at Leonard. “If you hurt him, I’ll make the prettiest Flash statue the city will ever have.” 

Barry tilts his head, his expression utterly blank. How a speedster can be this slow to process sometimes, Leonard may never understand. 

“Great.” Lisa sets her gun on her shoulder at the same jaunty angle Leonard does. “Good talk. Now I’ll leave you two to whatever you were…” She gives them a too-obvious once-over. _“Doing.”_

She saunters out of the alley without a backwards glance. In her wake, there’s a silence so profound that Leonard can hear the hum of Barry’s accelerated heartbeat. 

“We can pretend that didn’t happen,” he says, for lack of anything else to say. 

Barry snorts. “Head over heels, huh? You’ve got a funny way of showing it.” He doesn’t run off or deposit Leonard at the CCPD again. Given their current situation, Leonard will take that as an invitation to keep talking. 

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Scarlet.” Leonard stays against the wall in the vain hope that Barry will kiss him again. “I don’t do _this._ Whatever you think is between us.”

Barry’s eyes narrow. Leonard, who doesn’t do _cornered,_ is pinned in place by the intensity of his gaze. “You wanna know what I think?” the kid asks. He takes a step forward, halving the distance between them. There’s enough room to escape, but Leonard can’t move. “I think you’re scared. Years of facing all kinds of danger and you’re scared of being vulnerable with me. That’s why you said you don’t want me.”

Leonard can’t deny it. He just doesn’t want the kid thinking either of them can overcome it. “I want you, Scarlet. I want…” Sirens wail down the street. Since he knows the kid won’t have the good sense, Leonard asks, “Can we do this elsewhere, provided ‘elsewhere’ isn’t Iron Heights?”

The world spins. When it rights itself, Leonard is in Barry’s apartment. He blames his still-whirling mind for the fact that the first words out of his mouth are “I see you still haven’t cleaned.”

Barry freezes. He’s changed out of the Flash suit into cozy clothes: worn t-shirt, sweatpants, fuzzy socks. Leonard understands the implications: he won’t be run to Iron Heights once their conversation is over. “How do you know that?”

Leonard rolls his eyes. Sweet naïf. “I watched you, Barry, what did you expect? When you struck that deal with me, I wanted to know what kind of man I’d just let set the terms. Admittedly a messy one…” He makes a show of paging through old scientific magazines on the coffee table. “…but a good-hearted one.” 

Barry flushes up a remarkably pretty pink. “And is that when you fell in love with me?” he asks. “While you were stalking me?” 

Leonard shrugs. “Not love, but something. Call it possessiveness, maybe. You’re my little Scarlet, and nobody else—Mardon, for example—gets to lay a hand on you.” 

Barry tilts his head. “Do you want to start it like that?”

The question seems to come out of nowhere. Leonard traces back through their discussion, trying to determine where he’s going with it. "What?”

“You don’t want to do, like, the reciprocal-disclosure, vulnerable, dating thing.” Barry clasps and unclasps his hands. His eyes are fixed firmly on Leonard’s nose. From anyone else, this might make him uncomfortable; he’s used to it from Barry, who rarely looks him in the eye even when they wind up pinning each other. “I get it. So we have to start somewhere else, and that might be a place to start. Where, I dunno, I’d be, like. Yours. And you’d get to look after me.” 

The readiness with which Barry says “Yours” appeases the same primally possessive part of Leonard that rose up in Barry’s defense against Mardon. As Leonard considers it, he finds himself more and more in favor of the scenario Barry is proposing. “And how do you propose we do that, Scarlet? I’m not taking you to any of my hideouts.”

Barry grins. “You’re a thief. I’m not giving you a key.”

It’s hardly a challenge—Leonard has seen more complicated locks on bicycles. Still, having permission to break into Barry’s apartment puts a small smile on his face. “What are you hoping I’ll do? Break in here, clean up…”

“Not necessarily.” At this, Barry’s gaze skitters away. One hand comes up to rub the back of his neck—he’s embarrassed. Leonard doesn’t grasp why until he mumbles, “My big thing is that I kinda can’t make myself do things even though I need to do them? I know I need to, I just…can’t.” 

“Executive dysfunction,” Leonard says. “I know the term for it.”

Barry nods. “Yeah. It’s better if I have someone here to motivate me? Like, you can literally just sit and read a book and tell me to get back on task when I wander off to do something else and that would be ‘looking after’ me.” As though anticipating Leonard’s response, he holds up an accusatory finger. “No plotting heists! Any blueprints or anything that you bring into my apartment is fair game for stopping you.” 

That’s a point Leonard isn’t terribly upset about. He prefers to plan in one of his safe houses; he thinks best in a familiar environment. “Deal.” Playfully, he drawls, “So this ‘keeping you on task’ thing…if I threaten you with punishment, how effective is that?” 

Barry snorts. “What are you going to do, spank me?” When Leonard is silent, his eyes widen. “Oh. Um. You do mean spank me. Like…just a swat if I get off-task?” 

“That seems fair.” Leonard is intrigued by the hint of color in Barry’s cheeks. He seems more surprised than alarmed by the thought of spanking. They might have to revisit that in more detail. 

“Y-yeah, that might work.” Barry gives himself a little shake. “But yeah, we can do that. The keeping me on task thing. With or without the spanking.” 

“Deal,” Leonard says again, this time in his lowest, most promising drawl. While the kid is still blushing and off-balance (and isn’t that good to know, that just his voice puts Barry off his guard), he heads for the door. “So if I leave now, you’re not going to stop me?” 

Barry shakes his head. “Just don’t push your luck!” 

Leonard laughs. Cute, that the kid thinks he can turn over a new leaf on command. Still, with this new deal in mind, he won’t lack for something to do. If he’s honest with himself, he can’t wait to give this new arrangement of theirs a try.


	5. Chapter 5

Leonard waits three days before breaking into Barry’s house. He helps himself to a bowl of ice cream (Barry is evidently partial to mint chip) and rummages through the stacks of books. Most of them are physics books; the rest are science fiction novels. At the very bottom of one pile, there’s a somewhat battered copy of Harrison Wells’ biography. Leonard picks it up, intrigued. Barry’s books, worn as they are, are impeccably maintained. He wonders what the dearly departed Dr. Wells did to earn Barry’s wrath. 

It takes something like an hour for Barry to come home. In the interim, Leonard finds an array of notes in the margins of the biography—some peculiar close readings of lines referencing Wells’ hopes for the future, but also little doodled hearts. Now _that_ makes sense. Of course Barry, as fixated on science as he is, would develop a crush on Wells. Writing in the book wasn’t a hateful act; it was a besotted one. 

The door opens and a blur speeds through the house. Barry skids to a stop in front of the sofa, looking altogether too delighted to see him. “You came!” he exclaims. 

“There’s no need to sound so excited,” Leonard reminds him. “I’m here to put you to work.” 

“Oh yeah. Cleaning.” Barry vanishes. When he reappears, he’s dressed in a ratty grey shirt and some old sweatpants. Clearly, he expects Leonard to throw him right into the messy work. Leonard has no such intentions. 

“Start with the magazines.” He nods at the spread of magazines and journals on the coffee table. “Sort them into a ‘keep’ and ‘recycle’ pile. If you get distracted…”

“You’ll spank me, I know.” Barry kneels down, picks up the first journal, and immediately sets it to his left. “That’s the ‘keep’ pile, don’t touch it.” 

Leonard doesn’t know whether to be frustrated or amused that most of the clutter goes in the ‘keep’ pile. When he chides Barry for it, the kid snaps, “Hey! Some of them I haven’t read yet, and the ones I have read all have at least one article that I might want in the future.”

“Might?” Leonard arches an eyebrow. 

“Well, I’ve pitched things before and then wanted them, like, years later and couldn’t find the articles online. So I want to keep them.” Barry pouts, resembling nothing so much as a child protesting their bedtime. That shouldn't be as adorable as it is.

“Do you have a scanner?” 

Barry’s brow furrows. “What?”

“Can you scan the articles you like onto your computer?” Leonard elaborates. “Because I don’t think you need to save…anything, really.” He casts a despairing glance around Barry’s flat. The kid sighs and lets his head hang. 

“I know. I just don’t know what I might need later.” 

Leonard understands that mindset. When he was young, he hoarded everything—the worthless, the broken, the one-use-only, for fear that he wouldn’t be able to buy or steal another when he needed it. It took years (and Mick’s habit of lighting clutter on fire) to train himself not to save every piece of rubbish. “All right. Well, recycle the ones in the ‘discard’ pile so you don’t change your mind about them. We can deal with the rest later.” 

“So I’m done now, right?” Barry hops to his feet. 

“Not so fast. You’re cleaning out the sink, too.” Leonard hasn’t gone near it. Judging by the vague rotting smell pervading the kitchen, he doesn’t want to. 

Barry blanches. “Okay,” he says in a small voice. “Can I use my speed?” 

“I don’t care as long as it gets done.” Leonard sets the book aside. He means to trail Barry to the kitchen and ensure he does as he’s told. Instead, he’s blown back onto the sofa by a rush of displaced air. When he looks down, the book and the discard pile of magazines are gone. “Want to explain what Wells did wrong?”

“No.” For the first time this evening, Barry’s voice has a bite to it. There’s a long story there—Leonard can hear the pain of it in his tone. “I’m gonna go clean the sink.”

He does so at full speed, which is just enough time to afford Leonard a glimpse of crusted filth the likes of which he hopes to never see again. “How long has it been since you cleaned your sink?” he asks in horror. 

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” Barry addresses this to the floor. His lips barely move—he’s pouting, Leonard realizes. 

“It’s never going to get that bad again.” Leonard lets a hint of command creep into his voice. Barry’s responding shiver doesn’t go unnoticed. 

“I promise.” 

Leonard isn’t sure whether to believe him or not, but for now, he’ll take it.


	6. Chapter 6

The second time they have one of these cleaning evenings, Leonard is forced to make good on his threat to spank Barry. It’s only once, and it isn’t as hard as it could be. Nonetheless, the impact makes Barry freeze as effectively as a blast from the cold gun. Leonard tells himself he imagines the little squeak Barry makes in response to being spanked, but if it is in fact real, he would like to explore it in more detail. 

The third time, Leonard expects to have a quiet night helping Barry organize his bookshelves. Instead, he walks in to find the kid curled on the floor, looking as though he leaned against the counter for support and couldn’t stay upright. 

“Barry?” He flings himself down at Barry’s side. The kid’s face is so pale it looks grey; a thin sheen of sweat has broken out on his ashen skin. He manages a weak smile in response to Leonard’s voice. 

“I, um. I think I might have done a bad thing.”

Leonard scoops him in his arms, meaning to carry him to the sofa, and almost drops him in shock. His entire body is burning hot. This goes beyond his usual speedster warmth; he’s almost too hot to touch. “Scarlet, what’s happening?”

“I got shot,” Barry explains. He hikes up his shirt to show Leonard a patch of inflamed skin on his abdomen. “I thought it was fine, through and through, but something got stuck in there and my body healed around it.”

“You’re infected,” Leonard deduces. Barry nods feverishly. 

“If you…” His voice gets fainter. “If you cut it out, I think the infection will heal. I just…” There’s a breathless moment where his eyes slip out of focus. Then he slumps against the counter, unconscious. 

The best and safest option is to get the kid to STAR Labs. They’re trained professionals; they’ll be able to extract whatever is caught in Barry’s viscera without doing him further damage. Unfortunately, there’s no good way to get the kid across the city. Leonard brought his bike sans sidecar; he doubts Barry will stay on the back of his seat very well. Calling a cab is out of the question. Captain Cold transporting an unconscious kid across town—he might as well handcuff himself for the arresting officers while he’s at it. 

“Barry.” He taps the kid’s ashen cheek. “Barry, c’mon. Wake up.” 

Barry’s eyes flutter. He’s barely conscious and a far cry from coherent. Still, he manages to plead, “Get it out.”

Leonard sighs. Taking him to STAR Labs won’t spare him pain; they lack painkillers that can withstand his accelerated metabolism. Reluctantly, he gets to his feet, cleans off the counter, and wipes the whole thing with Clorox wipes. “Not sterile, but it’ll do. C’mere, kid.” 

He scoops Barry up, lays him on the counter, and strips off his shirt. The kid mumbles nonsense whenever Leonard moves him. 

“Shh.” Leonard smooths a hand over Barry’s sweat-damp brow. “I’m not going far.”

It takes a quick round of the apartment to find raggedy old towels, a nearly-full bottle of hand sanitizer, and (Leonard grimaces) a pair of tweezers that will have to suffice. From an inside pocket, he pulls a pocket knife that he keeps honed to a lethal edge. It will cut cleanly. In the process, hopefully, it will spare Barry some pain. 

“This is going to hurt,” Leonard warns. He rubs the inflamed skin of Barry’s belly with hand sanitizer. In the process, he probes for the fragment. It feels relatively shallow, which is a relief; the deeper he needs to dig, the greater the risk to Barry. “I’m sorry, kid.” 

He rubs his hands and the blade with hand sanitizer. Then he slices through Barry’s skin. 

Barry shrieks. To his credit, he barely moves; only a brief clench of muscles betrays how much it hurts. Leonard doesn’t want to think about the kind of pain he’s endured to learn that reaction. 

“Good,” he murmurs under his breath. The edge of the knife catches against something hard. When he shifts the flesh with the flat of the blade, there’s a dull metallic sliver embedded amid the muscle. Fibers have grown around it; yanking it free will hurt. “You’re doing well. Almost done.”

It takes three tries to get a solid grip with the tweezers. Leonard braces himself for Barry’s shout; then, mercilessly, he yanks. 

Barry screams and thrashes side to side. Leonard drops the tweezers with a sharp clatter. In their place, he presses a towel to the cut to stanch the bleeding. “It’s done,” he whispers. “It’s done.”

Barry slumps, sucking in ragged, greedy gasps of air. One of his hands flutters feebly against Leonard’s. Whether he’s trying to press the towel closer to the wound or yank Leonard’s hand away is hard to tell. 

“It’s done,” Leonard says again. He isn’t one for soothing nothings, but faced with Barry’s helplessness, he can’t stop himself. 

True to Barry’s word, the cut heals within minutes. The fever lingers. Leonard settles Barry on the sofa to make him comfortable. He means to return to the kitchen and clean up. At the last second, Barry’s fever-hot fingers latch onto his wrist. 

“Stay?” The kid can barely keep his eyes open. The longer Leonard looks at his bloodless, helpless face, the less willing he is to leave, even if he’s only a few steps away. 

“Yes, Scarlet. I’ll stay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This doesn't even come close to safe wound care, but for story purposes, Len is used to caring for his crew in less-than-optimal conditions (because criminals in the hospital? A bad plan) and Barry's speed-healing is good at preventing infection unless there's a source of infection already in his body.


	7. Chapter 7

The next time Leonard comes over, Barry is happily uninjured. That doesn’t mean Leonard can forget the sight of him curled on the floor, delirious with fever. All that worry spills out of him halfway through Barry’s attempt to alphabetize his books by author’s surname. 

“What would you have done if I hadn’t arrived?”

Barry glances up from a vast and disorderly pile of books. “Huh? Probably ordered pizza and lamented my inability to start a new cleaning project. I might even have picked up a few books and then had no idea what to do with them.” 

Leonard refrains from rolling his eyes. The kid isn’t avoiding the question; he just didn’t understand the context. “Last time I came in to find you collapsed in the kitchen. If I hadn’t gotten there when I did, what would you have done?” 

“Called Cisco, probably.” Barry tucks a pair of books onto the shelf. “I still had my phone. I just…” He ducks his head. “I was going to try to deal with it myself. I figured I could phase my hand into myself to get the bullet out. I just got too dizzy to use my powers. That was when you came in.”

That is in no way reassuring. In fact, it only supports what Leonard has long believed: that the kid is too short-sighted to look after himself. He supposes that logic formed the basis for their current arrangement. It still feels like his duty to remind Barry of that. “And so I ask, what would you have done if I hadn’t arrived?” 

Barry rolls his eyes. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“That’s not enough.” Leonard is fleetingly tempted to spank him for rolling his eyes. He respects Barry’s determination, but in this case, he wants nothing more than to punish him for it so that he _learns._ (It’s a horrifically Lewis-like thought. Later, Leonard will hate himself for it.) “What if I’m not there next time? What happens when you’re hurt and have no backup?” 

“Then I get clever about it or I die.” Barry bolts to his feet. Books scatter across the floor, forgotten in his irritation. “I don’t need you to save me all the time. The broken leg, now this—I’m not _helpless.”_

“I didn’t say you were,” Leonard snaps. 

“No, you’re saying I’m reckless and _stupid_ and can’t look after myself.” Barry thrusts his fists down by his sides. “I _get it,_ okay? Everyone thinks that. Stupid little Barry, too useless to take care of himself, I get it. Just—don’t, okay?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.” Leonard draws a deep breath. There’s something more at stake here than Barry’s need for independence. Until he figures out what it is, he needs to speak carefully. “You said when we started this arrangement that you wanted to be mine to look after. Well, I protect what’s mine, Barry, even if _my_ little hero thinks he doesn’t need protected.” 

Barry narrows his eyes. A little of the tension bleeds out of his shoulders. When he speaks, he no longer sounds hostile. “It isn’t that you don’t trust me? You’re just…worried?” 

That explains it. Leonard wonders what Barry’s team has done to him if he’s this sensitive to issues of trust. (Perhaps it was his foster father. Leonard has met the man only a few times, and only briefly each time, but he seems to like a certain level of control over every situation. Given enough time, Leonard understands how that would grate on someone as willful as Barry.) “I trust you. I just want you safe, and the only way to guarantee your safety is to have a plan.” 

“Right, I forgot. You plan down to the second.” It’s almost cute to watch Barry’s guard drop. Of course he doesn’t stay angry for long; Leonard doubts such a sweet boy wants to be angry a second longer than he has to. 

“With plans for every contingency I can anticipate,” Leonard agrees. “It would benefit you to do the same.”

“My brain doesn’t work like that.” Barry plops back down onto the floor. With a final, remarkably soft glance up at Leonard, he resumes sorting books. “I don’t really plan, and even if I do, I don’t stick to it, like, ever. That’s part of why I need someone on comms most of the time. I can make plans spur-of-the-moment, and they’re clever, if I can say that…” He preens. Leonard allows him that. His plans, no matter how they’re conceived, _are_ clever—irksomely so. “But having someone on comms means having someone else to fall back on.”

“Someone else to tell you what to do,” Leonard says slowly. It isn’t an accusation; he’s testing a theory. Barry is willful and stubborn, but he takes direction beautifully. 

“Yeah, I guess.” An unpleasant thought must cross the kid’s mind, because he scowls and thrusts a hardcover book into place so hard it thuds against the back of the shelf. 

Leonard doesn’t know how not to poke an open wound. “What did he do?” When Barry glances up at him, he clarifies, “Wells. You threw away his biography, and now this…he did something to piss you off. What was it?” 

“Well, remember how Mardon being on the loose is your fault?” Touché. Leonard makes a note of this—he’s free to poke Barry’s wounds, but the kid will give as good as he gets. “Wells was the one who set the Pipeline to blow so that we had to move him and the other metas.”

“Oh.” Leonard doesn’t really know what to say to that. Poor kid, going from besotted to betrayed. He can’t promise not to do the same, but this gives him new motivation to care for the kid as long as possible. 

With the disagreement behind them, Barry works diligently to rearrange the shelf. Leonard starts to pet him as he works, soft touches along the back of his head, nape of his neck, and narrow shoulders. It’s uncharacteristically tender—he doesn’t usually touch like this—but it feels like a good, even necessary way to stake his claim. Judging by the way the kid melts into every caress, he doesn’t mind. 

“I’m yours?” Barry murmurs presently. His tone is hesitant, like he doesn’t believe it. Leonard can’t abide that.

“Yes, you are.”

At that, the kid forsakes the bookshelf entirely and huddles against Leonard’s leg. His big doe eyes flick up to Leonard’s face. “Yours,” he repeats contentedly. 

“I take care of what’s mine,” Leonard says. Even he can’t tell whether it’s a promise or a warning.


	8. Chapter 8

Leonard doesn’t track how their relationship goes from possessive to affectionate. Somewhere between helping the kid clean his apartment, cooking with him, and playfully stealing his things (he never gets out of the apartment with them; it’s just an excuse for Barry to chase him), affection grows up between them like weeds through pavement cracks. He doesn’t notice it until it’s too deeply entrenched to do anything about. 

These tender, new-grown feelings are put to the test after a particularly vigorous cleaning spree. Barry has scoured the bathroom of grout and mold in a whirl of lightning punctuated by occasional curses. As a reward, Leonard lures him onto the sofa and kisses him deep and slow. One kiss turns into several, and by the time Leonard realizes they should probably stop, they’re making out like a couple of teenagers. 

“Oh hell no.” 

A deep, stern voice startles both of them out of the comfy-warm haze of pleasure that’s settled over them. Barry squeaks and falls off the sofa. Leonard pokes his head up over the cushions and finds himself face-to-face with an infuriated Detective West. 

“This is exactly what it looks like,” he says smugly. He doesn’t know how not to be antagonistic when caught off-guard. 

Without hesitation, Detective West draws his gun and aims for Leonard’s head. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t shoot you now.” 

He could give him several, not least of which is that while Lisa has enough morals not to kill Barry in retaliation, he can’t promise the same of Mick. Before he scan speak, Barry runs around the sofa and interposes himself between the detective’s gun and Leonard. “Joe! It’s—it’s—he’s not gonna hurt me. Just put the gun down, okay, and we can talk about this.” 

“You and I are gonna have words in a second,” Detective West says ominously. “But if you think I’m gonna let that son of a bitch walk outta here without cuffs on his wrists or a hole in his head…”

“I’m not opposed to handcuffs,” Leonard drawls. To watch the detective splutter, he adds, “Barry can attest to that.” (In fact, Barry cannot. The detective doesn't know that.)

“Shut up, you’re making it worse!” Barry squeaks. He turns back to Detective West, his posture pleading. “Joe, it’s fine. We have an arrangement, he’s helping me.”

“Barr, there’s blood on that man’s hands that won’t ever come off.” The detective shifts so his sights are once again set on Leonard’s forehead. Barry shifts with him. “No amount of optimism and half-assed good deeds will fix that.”

“So what, you’re gonna send me back to Iron Heights?” Leonard drawls. He shouldn’t antagonize the detective any further, but it’s too fun to stop. “That doesn’t take. This _arrangement_ —” He puts a delicate emphasis on it that Barry didn’t. It makes it sound far more sexual than it is. “—might teach me a thing or two about human decency, which is more than three stints in juvie and seven in Iron Heights ever did.” 

“Hell no.” There’s no hesitation in the detective’s eyes. “I don’t trust you with my boy.”

_This_ would be why Barry gets prickly when he feels he’s not being treated like an adult. Leonard suspects Detective West’s overprotectiveness will provoke him, and he’s not disappointed. 

“Joe, you don’t get to ‘trust people’ with me.” Barry’s hands ball into frustrated fists. “You don’t like Len, I get it, I’ve read his rap sheet.”

“My _nonexistent_ rap sheet,” Leonard reminds them. He hasn’t been caught since Barry purged his criminal record. If Detective West shoots him, it won’t look much like self-defense. 

“Hush,” Barry snaps. “I understand, Joe. But _I’m_ willing to trust him, and he’s earned it. It’s been a year since he swore not to kill, and he hasn’t. He’s been coming here for close to three months, and he hasn’t stolen anything, hasn’t hurt me, nothing.”

“Leopards don’t change their spots, Barr.” The detective glowers over Barry’s shoulder. Leonard arches an eyebrow. If he hadn’t ‘changed his spots,’ so to speak, Barry would be dead by now. Given all the times he’s interfered in Leonard’s dealings, efficiency would demand it. He doubts saying so aloud will endear him to the detective. “Don’t let a crush blind you to that.” 

“Okay, something’s gotta give,” Barry mutters. At first, Leonard thinks it’s a plea. When he feels the ozone crackle in the air, he realizes it’s a warning. 

The next thing Leonard knows, he’s on the sidewalk beside his motorcycle. He staggers, off-balance from the acceleration, and braces himself on the handlebars. While he gets his balance back, he evaluates. There’s no point waiting around for the detective to come after him. He might as well get away while he can and catch up with Barry later.


	9. Chapter 9

The next time Leonard visits Barry’s apartment, he finds the kid sulking on the sofa. “So,” he says. “Things aren’t going well with Detective West?” 

“Len!” Barry bolts up off the cushions. The look of unadulterated joy on his face makes Leonard’s heart do something bizarre. Fuck, he’s gotten fond of this sweet little do-gooder. “Uh, no, he’s been cold-shouldering me for the last couple days because I ran you outside. I mean, I see his point—you could be dangerous, no offense—”

“None taken.” Leonard smirks. It’s nice to know his reputation can withstand a year of acquiescing to a do-gooder’s morals. 

“But you’re not anymore, and I don’t want to treat you like you are.” Barry rocks side to side. “I don’t know. And then Joe told the team and now they’re all cross with me, except Harry who thinks it’s cool because your doppelgänger on his Earth is the mayor and he’s intrigued by you being a thief…”

It’s a mark of how odd Leonard’s life has gotten that he takes this in stride. “And let me guess. In all of this, you just want someone to tell you everything is okay.”

Barry huffs. “They’re making me doubt my judgment. And I know they’re justified, I just wish…” Abruptly, he stops rocking and looks down at the floor. “Someone’s always been after me about how I don’t have all the facts and I didn’t see what I think I saw and I’m sick of having to doubt myself all the time.”

Leonard’s plan for getting Barry to clean the bedroom, which was next on their list of rooms to tackle, evaporates. Instead, he wanders over to the sofa, sits down, and beckons for Barry to join him. At the last second, he changes his mind. “Not on the sofa,” he says. “On your knees.”

Barry drops to his knees without question. He’s close enough that Leonard can pet his hair and face, so he does, slowly and steadily. In moments, the kid’s shoulders slump. “Okay, this is nice.”

“You want someone not to doubt what you saw?” Leonard scratches blunt nails against the base of the kid’s skull. His eyes flutter shut and he pushes back into Leonard’s hand. He’s beautiful like this, Leonard thinks: relaxed and vulnerable and unquestioningly his. “Then tell me.”

Barry hums contentedly. “Hmm, okay. Um, it’s…it’s really hard to think with you petting me like this.”

That’s the plan. “Do you want me to stop?” 

“Oh fuck no.” Barry shifts closer and, without prompting, lays his head in Leonard’s lap. “Um, I…hmm. I guess stuff like this, where you could hurt me and you don’t, is one thing.”

Leonard rubs his thumb against the tender hollow behind Barry’s ear. “I’m opportunistic,” he reminds the kid. “And this suits me.”

“Yeah, I guess, but I…hmmm, yes, that…” Barry nuzzles into his hand. “I’m not like this with anyone else. Not even just I wouldn’t be like this with my other villains—I wouldn’t be like this with anyone. _Maybe_ Iris.”

Leonard’s heart does the same bizarre thing. Silly, sweet little do-gooder—he shouldn’t trust Leonard this thoroughly. It’s touching but dangerous. 

“And…oh, _yes_ …” This is because Leonard winds his fingers in the soft hair near the nape of Barry’s neck and pulls lightly. The kid goes utterly limp, kept up only by the support from Leonard’s leg. “And you’re not violent, you never have been. Even before I made you swear not to kill, you barely ever did. You’ve always had a code, I just tweaked it.” 

That much is true, although Leonard would like to stress that ‘barely ever’ doesn’t mean ‘never.’ And yes, while from his perspective the kills were necessary, they ought to horrify a little do-gooder. Perhaps because they’re so far in the past, it’s easy for Barry to forget. “I’m efficient, Scarlet. What’s one life more or less in the context of the plan?”

“See, I don’t believe that.” Barry’s eyes flutter open. They’re dreamy and content but fully focused; he’s aware of the arguments he’s making. “You sell yourself as a ruthless criminal, but I don’t believe it. You’re a thrill-seeker with a code.”

Leonard arches an eyebrow. “A thrill-seeker? My bank account says otherwise.”

Barry rolls his eyes. _There’s_ his sassy little Scarlet. “You’re a criminal, but you don’t do it for crime’s sake. You do it because you like the challenge—and the chase.”

“Moreso when the chase comes with a high probability of having this tight little body pressed against mine.” Leonard makes a show of running a finger down Barry’s side. The kid shivers—oh, he’s ticklish. That’s a useful weakness to know. “The red leather is a nifty bonus.” 

“It’s tripolymer,” Barry corrects automatically. “And thanks, now I’m going to be very aware of proximity next time you pull a heist.” 

Notably, he doesn’t say anything about _changing_ their proximity. Leonard entertains the notion that their little sparring sessions are as rewarding for Barry as they are for him. “Are you protesting?”

“Hell no.” Barry rubs his face against Leonard’s jeans, evidently looking for more stim. In response, Leonard goes back to rubbing his fingertips over the kid’s scalp. “Um, yeah, I…I think I had more reasons but I’m kinda…not remembering very well right now…”

Leonard doesn’t know if he necessarily agrees with the kid’s reasons, but he can see how a hopeful boy like Barry would arrive at them. “No, you’re right, Scarlet. I don’t know if your reasons are sufficient, but they’re right.”

Barry purrs. “Hmm, okay, that’s…that’s all that matters, I guess…” He gives himself a little shake. “Why does this feel so nice?” 

“Because,” Leonard ventures, “you like being mine.”

He expects Barry to recoil—as independent as he is, he probably doesn’t want to be claimed. Instead, he relaxes further and murmurs, “Yours. Cared for and trusted and safe and _yours.”_

“I take care of what’s mine,” Leonard promises again. He hears the tenderness in his tone and is helpless to stop it. Later, he can worry about how invested he’s gotten and try to toughen himself to feelings again. Right now, with Barry so vulnerable and sweet, it’s the last thing on his mind.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the spanking scene some of you seemed interested in back in chapter 4. This chapter is smut without even a hint of plot, so if you don't want smut, please skip ahead!

The next time Leonard breaks in, they tackle the mess in the bedroom, or try to. Barry is distracted, so much so that Leonard has to spank him no fewer than three times to get him back on task. It doesn’t help. In fact, Leonard realizes after Barry freezes up under his hand, it’s making him more distracted. 

“You want me to spank you,” he says without preamble. 

Barry blushes a brilliant crimson. “I, um, it’s not, you don’t have to, I’m just…”

“Keyed up,” Leonard finishes, “and you think getting spanked will focus you again.” He rubs his palm over the curve of Barry’s ass. The kid pushes back into his hand, making a desperate little sound that in no way resembles a ‘no.’ 

“It’s kinda been all I can think about for weeks,” Barry admits. Sweet little naïf—of course he got himself all worked up and didn’t say a word. 

“You should have told me.” Leonard slips a finger into the kid’s belt loop and uses it to tug him closer. Barry squeaks, and oh, Leonard forgot he likes being manhandled. This isn’t helpful, but it’s fun. “How am I supposed to take care of my little hero if he won’t tell me what’s wrong?” 

Barry goes a darker shade. “I didn’t want to tell you because, um, part of the whole speedster thing is accelerated, um. Everything. It’s really easy to wind me up and it’s not on you to deal with that, so I didn’t…”

It takes Leonard a second to realize what the kid means: his libido sped up right alongside the rest of him, and a spanking is just the sort of thing to kick it into high gear. Adorable, that Barry thinks he wouldn’t consider that a perk. “I’m not opposed.”

“I know, that’s why—” He sees the second Barry’s brain catches up to the deviation from his script. “Oh, wait, you, oh. You want…no, you don’t have to, this is so out of bounds from what we discussed and even with the kissing we haven’t, um, formally redefined our deal, and sex doesn’t have to be on the table ever at any point—”

If he wasn’t so cute, his obliviousness might be irksome. “Barry. I don’t know how to make it much clearer, other than saying get over my lap _now_ so I can calm you down.” 

Barry makes a little startled sound. “Oh, we’re, you actually want to, okay. Um, you want me on the bed?”

Leonard settles on the end of the bed in such a way that when Barry lays across his lap, his legs and chest will be supported by the mattress. Before beckoning the kid into his lap, he asks, “How do you want to do this, Scarlet? Clothed or bare?” 

He expects Barry to blush anew at that, not that his original blush has quite faded. Instead, he takes a moment to give it serious thought. “I…I haven’t ever…except for, um, what you do to keep me on task. And I’m kinda not great with pain, even after all the times I’ve gotten hurt as the Flash.”

“You want to keep your clothes on,” Leonard intuits. “That’s fine.” He crooks a finger, beckoning the kid closer. “If you want to do this, get over my lap, Scarlet.”

Obediently, Barry settles across his lap. This gives Leonard a new appreciation for how gangly he is; there seems no end to the long, awkward legs stretching off to one side. It also draws his attention to Barry’s pert little ass—not that he hasn’t noticed it before, but stealing glimpses is altogether different from being invited to look (and to hit). 

“Comfortable?” 

Barry makes a soft sound in his throat. “Can I get back to you on that? It mostly feels weird right now.”

That’s to be expected. Leonard rubs his hand over Barry’s ass and lower back, trying to calm him; it will be worse if he anticipates it. “I’m going to spank you fifteen times—ten for being distracted, five for not telling me about this sooner. Like I said, I can’t look after you if you won’t tell me how.”

Barry squeaks. “Is fifteen a lot?” 

“For you?” Leonard shrugs. “Maybe. Comparatively? No, I’ve given out worse punishments.” He can’t resist adding, “And been thanked for them.” 

The back of Barry’s neck flushes cherry red. “Uh. Okay, whenever you…”

Leonard delivers the first spank before Barry finishes talking. The kid jolts and lets out a sharp yelp; both of his hands fist in the sheets. Leonard rubs his hand gently over the place he spanked, trying to ground Barry with the pressure. “One.”

“I’m sorry for being distracted.” It’s the softest little murmur into the mattress. Leonard’s frozen heart goes all to mush. Barry is too consumed with being good to enjoy a punishment scene; he should have realized that from the beginning. 

“Shh, Scarlet. It’s just an excuse to spank you, that’s all. I’m not angry.” 

Barry glances back at him. “You mean that?”

Leonard nods. “I wanted the numbers to come from somewhere, but they don’t have to if you don’t want this to be a punishment. It can just be me doing what my sweet little hero asked of me.” He reaches over to tap Barry’s nose. The kid’s eyes flutter happily and he whispers, 

“Can we just do that?” 

“Of course,” Leonard murmurs. He punctuates it with a second spank. This time, there’s no yelp; in the aftermath, Barry arches his back as though asking for more. 

“You can be, um, faster. If you want to.”

In response, Leonard spanks him three more times in quick succession. It must be the right thing to do; Barry whimpers and hitches his hips up, asking without words for _pleasehardermore._ Just to tease, Leonard makes the pattern of hits irregular, unpredictable. 

Around the tenth spank, Barry shifts his hips. It’s a subtle, barely noticeable motion, but after that, it’s like an unspoken rule disappears. In its absence, Barry ruts helplessly into Leonard’s thigh, shallowly at first but faster and more insistent as Leonard keeps spanking him. 

After the fifteenth hit, which elicits a desperate little whine, Leonard checks, “Do you want me to stop?”

“No, no, please.” Barry’s hips jerk against his thigh. Leonard shifts as discreetly as he can. The kid’s begging goes right to his cock, and while he doesn’t want to draw Barry’s attention to that, he can’t keep going without at least changing the pressure. “Keep—keep going, please…”

After three more hits, the kid makes a sweet, sharp sound in his throat and grinds down against Leonard’s thigh. Leonard whispers praise until the last aftershocks of his orgasm are done. 

“Oh God.” Barry slumps helplessly against the mattress. “Fuck. Um, I’m sorry. And…thank you.”

Leonard coaxes him to sit up. Without needing to be asked, Barry sits up and nuzzles against his mouth for a breathless kiss. Between gentle kisses on and around Barry’s slack mouth, Leonard murmurs, “Don’t be sorry, Scarlet. I wanted to do that for you, and trust me, it was worth my while.”

Barry slips a hand down between them and palms Leonard through his jeans. “Oh.” The kid sounds surprised, as though he didn’t think spanking him would be arousing. “Do you want some help with that?” 

“You don’t have to.” It would be cruel to make Barry feel obligated to reciprocate. 

“No, but I want to.” A small, wicked grin flashes across Barry’s flushed face. “I can make it good for you, I promise.”

Leonard doesn’t know what he means by that until, without warning, his hand vibrates. It’s over in an embarrassingly short amount of time, but then, Leonard didn’t expect the vibrating or the firm sureness of Barry’s grip. 

“And here was me thinking you were as much a blushing virgin as you look.” 

Barry grins. “I guess I’m just full of surprises, huh? Although the spanking was, um, new. And good. I…I liked that.” He turns shy, which is adorable to watch. Leonard can’t resist kissing the tip of his nose. 

“Just not as a punishment?”

“For getting off-task the way you sometimes do, sure. As a prolonged thing? No, those are just…spankings for fun.” Barry’s brow furrows. “Is that a thing?”

Precious boy. Leonard is going to ruin him in so many ways, and Barry will beg him to do it. “I don’t see why not.”

“Oh, uh, okay.” Abruptly, Barry checks, “And you’re okay with this? With changing the deal to be…this? I’m not making you?”

“If you mean do I mind adding sexual benefits to our little nemeses-with-benefits arrangement, no, I don’t.” If Leonard said he hadn’t thought about adding a sexual component since…well, honestly, since before they started this bizarre little arrangement…he’d be lying. He won’t tell that to Barry. (At least, not yet. In the right context, that information might prove a thoroughly pleasurable weapon.) 

“Okay.” Barry cuddles closer to him. Of course he’s cuddly after an orgasm; Leonard would expect nothing less. “And is this okay? The cuddling thing?”

“Well, we’ll need to clean up eventually, and I mean that both in the context of ourselves and your room.” Leonard casts a despairing gaze around the bedroom. It’s a wonder one person can generate so much laundry, although given that Barry has a penchant for layering up, maybe it’s not that implausible. “Or would you rather leave it until tomorrow? The bedroom, I mean.”

“Uh…can we do that?” Barry asks sheepishly. 

“Yes.” Leonard is too permissive. He’s here to keep the kid on task. This is decidedly not ‘on task.’ “But no more delays.” 

“You didn’t really mind,” Barry teases. 

No, he didn’t. In fact, if every delay was like that one, Leonard might never let Barry get any work done again. “Brat.” It’s too fond, but judging by his pleased hum, Barry doesn’t mind. Leonard can’t help wondering if, by allowing their relationship to change with such little negotiation, he’s effectively lost all hope of being able to pull away without getting hurt.


	11. Chapter 11

“You haven’t pulled a heist in weeks. Aren’t you getting bored?”

Leonard looks up from his checklist, having just checked off ‘deep clean the bedroom.’ Lisa stands in the doorway, arms crossed, an inquisitive but nonjudgmental look on her face. “Will you think I’m possessed if I say no?” 

“Hmm, maybe.” She slips into the room and perches on the desk. Leonard gestures to the perfectly good chair two steps away. Unsurprisingly, she ignores him. “Otherwise, I’d say your little scarlet brat must be more of a challenge than you expected.” 

He is, but not in a bad way. Leonard hasn’t committed this wholeheartedly to taking care of someone since he was in charge of little Lisa, and it’s a wholly different experience with Barry. The kid is brilliant, earnest, and so sweet; the more time Leonard spends with him, the more he wants to spend. “He’s something, all right.”

Lisa narrows her eyes. “Lenny. You really care about him, don’t you?” 

Alarmingly, yes. Leonard sighs and hangs his head. “More than I’ve cared about anyone in a long time, except you and Mick.” 

“Does he know it?” She picks up the checklist and skims it. If she’s hoping for some indication of their relationship status, she’ll be disappointed; it only lists the cleaning projects Leonard hopes to accomplish. 

“I think so.” Leonard thinks back to their most recent cleaning spree, which ended with pushing Barry down onto the just-made bed and making out like teenagers. When they’d finally had their fill of kisses, Barry coaxed him to stay and cuddle for a while longer. At the time, he’d worn such a sweet, shy smile that Leonard is sure he knows how adored he is. 

“Well, make sure.” Lisa sets the checklist aside. “You don’t want to lose him because you didn’t let him know how much he meant to you.” Anticipating his response, she says, “You don’t have to use the word ‘love,’ not if you’re not sure that’s what you’re feeling. Just let him know you care and that he means a lot to you.”

Leonard bites back an instinctive “I have been.” It’s easier for him to show affection through actions—even before Lewis punished him for being ‘soft,’ he didn’t trust himself to speak his feelings and have them make sense. Barry seems to thrive most on touch (and oddly enough, Leonard can give it to him) but Lisa is right: he probably needs to hear it aloud. “I will.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is for Rain, whose reaction to possessive!Len was wondering "how big a gasket Len will blow if Zoom shows up and breaks Barry's back like in the tv show." I've probably used Zoom too much in my ColdFlash stuff, but here's Len blowing the requested gasket.

The next time Leonard breaks into Barry’s flat, Barry isn’t there. This isn’t uncommon; the kid is too busy catching criminals to have much downtime, which is why they make the most of it. Leonard selects a book from the miraculously-still-clean shelf, scoops himself a bowl of ice cream, and settles down to wait. 

When, an hour later, the kid still hasn’t returned, he starts to fret. Even if Barry is on a meta-case, he’s usually home by now. Hesitantly, aware of the risk of someone at STAR Labs picking up, Leonard calls Barry’s phone. 

“Cold.” The voice that answers could be Cisco’s, but it lacks his usual humor. Leonard’s blood runs cold. What happened to Barry to strip away Cisco’s endless good humor? “I don’t even wanna know why you’re calling, but now isn’t the time.”

“Where’s Barry?” If Cisco can play the no-nonsense attitude, so can he. 

“Like I’d tell you,” Cisco scoffs. From that, Leonard intuits two things: he’s at STAR Labs, and worse, he’s hurt enough that Cisco thinks he’ll take advantage of it. “Look, if you care about him as much as you claim to, you’ll keep away from him.”

That isn’t an option. If Barry is hurt, Leonard needs to know how badly and by whom. He won’t get those answers from Cisco. Instead, he hangs up, cleans up, and runs out the door to go to STAR Labs. 

Getting to STAR Labs is a matter of minutes. Getting in is slightly more complicated. He has no idea who’s inside or where they are. Rather than go in the front, he sneaks in a side door, makes his way up a seldom-used flight of stairs, and upon reaching the correct floor, slips into the ventilation. It’s no easy matter to fit through the vents (he swears they’ve gotten smaller since the last time he tried this) but it’s easier than explaining himself should he run into Team Flash. 

It takes five minutes and thirteen seconds to find the infirmary. What he sees there freezes his heart. Barry— _his_ little Barry—is unconscious on the cot. There’s a brace around his neck, a bandage on his side, and a too-thin sheet pulled up high enough to cover his bare belly. Iris West sits at his side. A rumbling voice from the next room confirms Detective West isn’t too far away. 

“This is your fault. If my boy—if _anything_ happens to my boy, that’s on you, and I’ll see you pay for it.” 

“Threats gain you nothing,” a less-familiar voice rasps. “I didn’t want this to happen any more than you did.” 

Caitlin steps into view. She checks a bank of monitors—heart rate, blood pressure, oxygen levels, Leonard knows the drill—before laying her hand on Iris’s shoulder. “You should get some rest. Barry is stable—I think he’ll be okay.”

Iris gives a piteous little sob. “I can’t do this again, Caitlin,” she murmurs. “We thought we were gonna lose him to the lightning, and now this…I can’t, I can’t.” 

“It’s not doing either of you any good to stay here.” Caitlin casts a glance into the other room, where Detective West’s rant has hit its stride. “Imagine how Barry will feel to wake up to yelling.” 

Iris musters a watery giggle. “Yeah, he hates yelling. I guess you’re right.” She leans down to press a kiss to Barry’s ashen cheek. “Call me the moment anything changes.” 

Leonard waits while the yelling dies down. Slowly, footsteps indicate a trickle of people leaving the Cortex. When at last Caitlin’s footsteps recede down the hall, Leonard slips out of the air vent and crosses to Barry’s side. 

Close to, the kid makes an even more piteous sight. His skin is bloodless-pale, his usually-jittery body motionless, his face slack in unconsciousness. When Leonard takes his hand, the skin is clammy-cold. 

“Scarlet.” Leonard perches on the bed beside the kid. “Come on. I need you to wake up.” 

A little flicker of pain crosses Barry’s face, as though he tries to obey and finds the effort too much. Leonard can only imagine what kind of injury would keep his energetic little Scarlet down for this long. 

“I need to know who did this,” he murmurs. “They will never touch you again.” 

“All right, Captain Cold,” a furious voice snaps from behind him. Leonard knows it’s Cisco; he’s not going to dignify him by looking. “Step away from my friend and maybe I won’t blast you.”

“I don’t need your permission to sit with him.” Leonard brings Barry’s hand to his lips and kisses the knuckles. 

Cisco scoffs. “You kinda do. This is our workplace—”

“And my medbay,” Caitlin adds. 

“I’d like to see you make me go.” Leonard drops a hand to his cold gun. He won’t hit them—Barry would never forgive him—but he’s not above icing the floor and watching them fall on their asses. “Anyway, what happened to ‘Barry shouldn’t wake up to yelling’?” 

It’s at this precise moment that the kid draws in a pained little breath and struggles to open his eyes. Leonard lays a hand on his brow. “Easy, Scarlet. Shh. You’re in STAR Labs. You’re safe for now.” 

Barry manages to open hazy eyes and peer around the room in confusion. His first, rasping question is, “Zoom?” 

“Gone for now.” Caitlin hurries to Barry’s other side. With a none-too-subtle glare at Leonard, she checks Barry’s vitals and lays a reassuring hand on his chest. “Linda is safe. She’s going to stay with friends in Coast City until everything with Zoom is…better.”

“Zoom?” Leonard demands. “The other speedster terrorizing Central? He did this?” He tightens his grip on Barry’s hand. The kid turns to him as though noticing his presence for the first time. 

“Len?”

“I’m here, Scarlet.” Leonard forces himself out of the icy, revenge-oriented mindset. Barry needs protection and affection more than he needs vengeance. “I came over to clean. When I didn’t hear from you, I knew something was wrong.”

“I tried to catch Zoom.” Barry stares up at him with wide, frightened eyes. Whatever Zoom did to him, he’s terrified. “He broke my back to stop me. I’m okay, I should have already healed, it just hurt _so much.”_ His voice breaks. 

“I don’t know if you’ll have healed,” Caitlin interjects. “Zoom stabbed you with the speed dampener we made for him. Even if it’s worn off by now…neural repair in the spinal cord is a slow process. For anyone without a healing factor like yours, it just doesn't happen. I don’t know how long it will take you to heal.”

“I’m fine.” Barry’s voice is artificially strong. He’s lying to himself, Leonard realizes, because he’ll break down if he doesn’t. He pushes himself up into a better sitting position and freezes. “Caitlin, I can’t feel my legs.” 

In the controlled chaos of imaging Barry’s spine, testing the extent of the nerve damage, and making plans for how to handle his paralysis, Leonard is effectively shut out. When Detective West shows up again, Leonard makes himself scarce. He’ll be more helpful if he makes a plan to stop Zoom. Lingering when he’s so clearly unwanted won’t do anyone any favors.


	13. Chapter 13

Leonard spends a week planning an attack against Zoom. Despite Mick and Lisa’s concerns, he vows to go alone. No matter how coolly he may regard them, speedsters are dangerous, and he won’t put anyone else he cares about at risk from this Zoom. 

It takes shamefully little effort to track him to an ominous-looking spot down by the docks. As Leonard sneaks between warehouses, gun in hand, he can’t help wondering why villains have to be so predictable. (He’s aware of his own penchant for abandoned warehouses, but at least he moves base between jobs.) 

A rush of air behind him is the only warning he needs. He’s fought the Flash too many times not to know what a speedster sounds like when they run. Without a conscious thought, he whips around and fires. The blue-white stream from the cold gun crosses an eerie streak of gemstone-blue lightning. 

“Zoom, I presume,” Leonard calls out. “Figured I should let you know after all this time that you’ve been messing with my city. One pesky speedster is enough—I don’t have to tolerate two!” He turns a slow circle, firing continuously. He’s always a fraction too slow. “What, no quick comeback? At least the Flash is fun.” 

He sees the flicker of lightning milliseconds before Zoom appears in front of him, speeding up in his face the way Barry sometimes does. With an effort, he doesn’t flinch. After this fight, he’ll have new appreciation for the playful dynamic he and Barry have had since day one. 

“You know.” Zoom’s voice emerges slow, rasping, and artificial. He must have some kind of voice modifier built into the ghoulish webbing over his mouth. “I wouldn’t have come after you, but since you’ve sought me out, this is too good an opportunity to ignore.”

“Opportunity?” Leonard scoffs to mask a frisson of fear. “What, to die?” 

Zoom gives a slow shake of his head. “Think again.” 

In the space of a heartbeat, Leonard realizes that he hasn’t been as subtle about his connection to Barry as he could have been. If Zoom staked out STAR Labs after his attack, he would have seen the lengths Leonard would go to see his little Scarlet. Understanding dawns a second too late for him to escape. Zoom grabs him by the shoulder and brings his booted heel down into his calf. Searing pain bursts out from the broken bones. Leonard is aware of a scream wrenching itself from his lips. When he’s able to think again, he’s on his knees, held up only by Zoom’s hand on his shoulder. 

“Your little Flash has healed well,” Zoom rasps, “but he’s frightened, off his game. With your safety as incentive, he’ll do exactly as I ask.” 

Leonard brings the cold gun back up into firing position. If he shoots now, he’ll ice Zoom from the legs down—not terribly effective, but enough to buy him time to scramble away into a better position. Before he can fire, Zoom raises a clawed hand. 

“Do you want me to break your arms, too?” 

Reluctantly, Leonard lowers the cold gun. He doesn’t relinquish his hold on it; if he does, he might never see it again. It’s much too dear to lose. Anyway, whatever Zoom plans to do with him next, he may yet find the time to use it. 

The next thing Leonard knows, he’s in the middle of the Cortex. Cisco, who’s managing the bank of monitors, yelps. Barry and Caitlin run out of the medbay. When Barry sees Leonard, he lets out a piteous cry. “Let him go!” 

“Where is Harrison Wells?” Zoom rasps. 

Cisco presses a button. When he speaks, he's clearly trying and failing to sound calm. “Hey Harry, we need you in the Cortex. We have a, uh, _very_ unwanted visitor.” 

“Make that two,” Leonard says loudly. He may be in pain, but he’ll never resist an opportunity to quip. 

“You’re right,” Cisco agrees. “ _Two_ unwanted visitors. One of them is, uh, gonna be very familiar to you.” 

No sooner has Cisco shut off the microphone than Barry bursts out, “What do you want?”

“What I’ve always wanted, Flash.” Zoom’s grip on Leonard’s shoulder tightens to the point of pain. He clenches his teeth. He refuses to give Zoom the satisfaction of crying out again. “To be the fastest in the multiverse. And to do that, I need your speed.”

“I’ll cooperate, I promise, just let him go!” Barry sounds desperate and Zoom hasn’t even made an explicit threat. Leonard has seen the footage of what Zoom did to the kid after breaking his back—no doubt he fears the same heartless treatment for Leonard. 

“Don’t you dare, Scarlet.” Leonard infuses as much confidence into his voice as he can muster given the current circumstances. “Central needs the Flash. Nobody will mourn an old thief.”

“Quiet,” Zoom rumbles. 

“Fight back.” Leonard continues as if he didn’t hear. “Fight for yourself, for once in your heroic self-sacrificing life. Don’t worry about me.” It’s permission he’s never given anyone: _save yourself and don’t look back._ Then again, he can count on one hand the number of people who would bother risking their safety for his. 

He sees the flash of movement in his periphery—Zoom’s hand arcing down at lightning speed. Pain bursts from the base of his skull. The last thing he hears before unconsciousness overtakes him is the wail of an alarm.


	14. Chapter 14

Leonard is first aware of a dull, throbbing pain…somewhere. It’s hard to localize, but then it’s hard to focus on anything at all, so he feels he can be forgiven a minor proprioceptive lapse. 

“Hmm?” He struggles to open his eyes. He’s in a sterile-white, stiflingly warm room. Stiflingly warm, he realizes, because of the speedster clinging to his hand. “Hey, Scarlet.”

“Len!” Barry launches himself out of his seat. Before Leonard knows what’s happened, he has his arms full of clingy speedster. Barry hugs him tight enough to suffocate, burrows his face into the crook of Leonard’s neck, and settles in like that. “You’re okay. When I saw Zoom hit you like that, I was so afraid you were…”

“Dead?” Leonard lifts a leaden hand to rest against the back of Barry’s head. “No. He needed me as leverage, he wasn’t going to kill me for mouthing off.” Since his little Scarlet seems more clingy than talkative, he prompts, “Did I hear an alarm go off?”

“What, when Zoom had you?” Barry pulls back just enough to glance at him. “Uh, kind of? After Zoom broke my back, we got really serious about how to take him down. Cisco and Stein said Earth-2 and all its people have a different resonant frequency than Earth-1…”

Leonard can follow the rest, even cloudy-headed as he is. “So you had Piper target that frequency.”

Barry nods. “It knocked Zoom out. He’s in the Pipeline now, and Harry’s on Earth-2 getting everything sorted out there. I just…I’m gonna have to help, but I didn’t want to leave you.” He skims his hands over Leonard’s chest. “I feel so bad, because all last week when I was recovering and you weren’t there, I thought you were done with me, but you weren’t. Zoom must have had you and I didn’t look for you and I’m so sorry…”

Leonard is a monster. He can lie, play the victim card, and watch Barry despise himself for false inaction, or he can tell the truth and shatter the kid’s sweet heart. There’s no good way forward. “He…didn’t, Scarlet. He only had me for a few minutes before bringing me here.”

Barry freezes. Then, slowly, he pulls away from Leonard’s embrace. “Oh. Then you…oh. It’s, um, it’s okay. I wouldn’t want me without my speed either. I mean I don’t, y’know, blame you for not staying while my back was broken. I was pathetic and you don’t do pathetic. So, yeah.” 

Leonard has never felt more loathsome than he does now. He should have known. He can pretend he wanted vengeance on Barry’s behalf, but he didn’t. Rather than do what Barry really needed, which was stay with him and support him, he did what he needed, and in the process, he broke Barry’s heart. “Oh, Scarlet, no. You didn’t—no, don’t you dare think that. I was gone during that time because I thought I would be more useful to you if I hunted Zoom down. I thought you would have enough support from them—your family and your team.” 

In a whisper, Barry confesses, “I wanted you.” 

“I know, and I should have stayed.” Leonard cradles Barry’s soft cheek. The kid nuzzles into his palm despite the hurt in his eyes. “But I’m a coward. I didn’t want to deal with them trying to chase me away from you, so I left before they had a chance. I shouldn’t have left you.”

Barry shakes his head. “You didn’t have to stay. Taking care of useless paralyzed me wasn’t part of the deal.”

“The deal,” Leonard scoffs. “I stopped caring about the deal a long time ago. I care about you, Scarlet, about being what you need. And I wasn’t. I failed you, simple as that.” The words shouldn’t come as easily as they do. He’s drugged, no doubt, but he’s not upset about it; Barry needs him to be genuine, and without the ability to maintain his carefully-structured emotionless walls, he can remember how to express feelings for the first time in years. 

Barry draws in a little hitching breath, just shy of a sob. “You mean that,” he murmurs. He shouldn’t sound so awed. Lisa was right when she said he needed to hear how much he means to Leonard. (He’ll tell her when he has the chance, although he hates admitting when he’s wrong.)

“Scarlet, shh, shh.” He pulls Barry close and rocks him slowly back and forth. As hard as it is to move, it’s worth it for the way Barry melts into his embrace and goes back to clinging as though Leonard is his only source of stability. “I shouldn’t have left you.” 

“It’s okay,” the kid murmurs. “It’s okay, it’s okay…don’t leave again. Please don’t leave again.” 

Leonard can’t make promises, but if only to prevent this kind of heartbreak again, he’ll do his best. Seeing Barry hurt—in any way—is too much for him now. “I’ll stay,” he promises. He might as well say it now, while his walls are down and the words come easily. He might not be able to later. “Oh, shh, Scarlet. I’ll stay.”


	15. Chapter 15

As it turns out, Leonard has no choice. Barry says all the right things about wanting him to be wherever he feels most comfortable, with whatever caretaker he trusts most, but his sad doe eyes tell a different story. Lisa and Mick won’t mind. They get twitchy about trusting him to anyone else’s care (years of habit are hard to break), but Barry is a hyperattentive caretaker. Leonard is in good hands with him. 

“You didn’t have to come home with me,” Barry says for something like the third time. They’re cuddled on the sofa, Leonard with his broken leg stretched out onto a makeshift footstool (a kitchen chair with far too many pillows piled atop it). 

“Scarlet.” Leonard kisses his brow, then the tip of his delicate nose. In a week’s time, when he still hasn’t healed, he’ll turn irritable and withdrawn. While he’s still somewhat cheerful, he’s being as tactile as he can stand. “You wouldn’t have known what to do with yourself if I hadn’t.” 

“Well.” Barry squirms closer. “I could have visited.” 

“And made a general nuisance of yourself until Mick fried you, sure.” Leonard smirks at the thought. Lisa would probably have been amused, at least at first, but Mick doesn’t have the patience. He’s a shockingly good caretaker, but he doesn’t tolerate interference with his patient. “I like this just fine.” 

“I would say I could clean, but I’ve kept everything pretty okay since we cleaned the bedroom.” Barry casts a proud glance around the living room. Indeed, it’s shockingly well-organized, although Leonard attributes this in part to the kid not having had much time to make a mess. “And anyway, if we did that, you’d have to call me over here to spank me if I got off-task.” 

“You wouldn’t mind.” Leonard lets his hand drift down to the curve of Barry’s pert little ass. The kid pushes into his touch until he gives a reproving squeeze. “Case in point.” 

“Don’t, don’t get me wound up, I have to take care of you and sex might jostle your leg.” Reluctantly, Barry nudges his hand away. Leonard slips it right back into place. 

“Some positions, sure, but there are options. Anyway, I don’t recall any fine print saying this isn’t full-service home care.” 

“You’re the worst,” Barry says, but he’s grinning. Leonard can’t resist leaning in to kiss that grin even wider. “Hmm, okay, I take it back. You have a terrible sense of humor, but you’re a really good kisser.” 

“And you’re an adorable caretaker, all joking aside.” Leonard needs to dote on him more than usual to make up for abandoning him after Zoom broke his back. This has manifested itself both in uncommon tactility and near-constant praise. “I couldn’t ask for better.”

“Oh.” Barry makes a soft cooing sound and cuddles closer. “I, um. I guess. Thanks.” 

Precious boy, thanking him for a compliment when Leonard should be thanking _him_ for such attentive care. He doubts Barry will ever notice the discrepancy. It’s one more way in which this relationship—whatever it’s become—is much too good for him. “You know, don’t you, that what I said in STAR Labs was true? I don’t care about the deal we made. This isn’t just about you being my property or my fuckbuddy or my caretaker. This is about you being…” 

“Yours,” Barry says. There’s the same strain of contentment and affection that’s been there since the time they cleaned the bookshelf. The kid is besotted, Leonard realizes; he has been for a while. No wonder he was so devastated when Leonard abandoned him while he was injured. 

“Yes.” It takes an effort to add, “But just as much…I’m yours. Whatever you need from me. Whatever you want me to be.”

“Oh.” Barry makes a soft, heartbroken sound. When Leonard glances down, the kid is fighting back tears. “I don’t know why I’m crying.” He tips his head back, trying to stop the tears from falling. This only gives Leonard a better view of the diamond-bright shine in his eyes. 

“Scarlet.” Leonard kisses him, soft and slow, and feels the trickle of a tear down Barry’s cheek. He did this. He made Barry think he didn’t care, and it will take more than kisses and stilted words to convince him otherwise. “I mean it. I’m yours.”


	16. Chapter 16

Leonard dreads what’s going to happen: nighttime arrangements. If he had an ounce of sense, he’d ask Mick to pick him up and take him back to the safe house. Instead, he mumbles, “I can sleep out here, you know.”

Barry looks horrified. “No you can’t! There's no way you can get your leg into a comfortable position if you sleep on the sofa. I’m taking you to bed.” Instantly, a blush spreads outward across his cheeks. “I mean, um. Not in the full-service-home-care way. Just in the making-you-comfortable way. And oh God, you might not be comfortable in bed with me. I’ll, it’s fine, I don’t mind the sofa…”

Leonard doesn’t share beds. It’s too vulnerable, too risky (and anyway, he has a tendency to lash out in his sleep). But if the other option is condemning Barry to a night on the sofa, he supposes he’s lived through worse. “Scarlet, Scarlet. It’s fine. Take me to bed…in whatever manner you choose.” 

This is how he finds himself snugged under the covers beside a cuddly little speedster. His injured leg is propped up on a pillow and on the side away from Barry; apparently, the kid has a habit of trying to intertwine his legs with those of his sleeping companion. Leonard thinks he’ll feel smothered. Instead, Barry’s warmth seeps into him like a drug. 

“Is this comfortable?” Barry frets. He shifts his arm on Leonard’s waist. Inadvertently, this puts his hand squarely between Leonard’s legs. He recoils as though he’s been burned. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.”

Leonard chuckles sleepily. The last thing he’s going to complain about is the kid getting handsy. “Don’t worry, Scarlet. I’m perfectly comfortable, and nobody ever said you had to keep your hands to yourself.” 

“Well.” Barry resettles his arm across Leonard’s chest, high enough to avoid accidentally groping him a second time. Leonard lays his hand on the kid’s forearm, hoping to keep him from any further squirming. “I guess. I just don’t want to, y’know. Get you all worked up before bed. Or make you uncomfortable.” 

“You’re adorable,” Leonard murmurs. He finds his eyes drifting closed and can’t be bothered to fight. 

“And you’re exhausted.” Barry kisses his temple. “Just sleep. I’ll be here in the morning.”

The kid’s warmth is as potent a sedative as Leonard has ever been given. He falls almost instantly asleep and, for the first time in years, has no nightmares.


	17. Chapter 17

The healing process is agonizingly slow. Within a week, Leonard feels perfectly adept at maneuvering with crutches and thinks about demanding his freedom. Every time he considers bringing it up, though, they’re cuddled together. Instead, he finds himself thinking he’ll tell Barry tomorrow. (Tomorrow never comes.) 

The amount of time they spend cuddled up gives them ample opportunities to talk about their evolving relationship. It’s clear Barry wants to, but it takes him four days to work up enough courage to ask, “Um…can we, if it’s okay, once you’re healed, can we go back to what we were before Zoom? The…the thing where I’m yours and you’re mine, and you just, like, tell me what to do and make my head quiet?” 

Leonard considers taunting him. Once, he’d have taken a request like that for permission to impose his will whether Barry liked it or not. Now, he knows what Barry is asking for: guidance, but only when it’s sought. “You want to get on your knees for me again, Scarlet?” 

He doesn’t expect the kid to slip off the sofa and kneel immediately at his feet. Understanding dawns in a flash, turning Barry’s cheeks bright red. “Oh. You didn’t mean right now. I guess the answer is ‘yes, very much so’? Also sorry.” He goes to get to his feet. Leonard lays a hand on his shoulder. 

“I didn’t say you could get up.” 

“Oh.” Barry drops back to his knees, eyes wide. “Sorry. I…sorry. You could maybe say that again.” 

Precious boy. Leonard skims his hand up to tangle his fingers in Barry’s soft hair. “So you like this dynamic—being mine? You didn’t just want it to be a transition to some kind of real romance?” 

Barry blinks up at him. “No! I told you, remember, I don’t want to fix you. I want you, however you like me best. And if this works for you—me being yours to look after—that’s good, because I like it a lot.” 

Leonard should say no. He’s still keenly aware of having broken the kid’s delicate little heart over the Zoom debacle; he doesn’t deserve the chance to look after him and potentially make another devastating mistake. “I do, too.”

“And don’t say ‘real’ romance like this isn’t real.” Barry cuddles against Leonard’s uninjured leg. “Whatever this is, it’s real, and the way I feel about you is real. And…I think the way you feel about me is real, too.”

“I don’t know if what I feel is love.” It seems necessary to be honest about that. If, later, Leonard realizes that what he feels for the kid isn’t love, hopefully it will hurt less to tell him. “It’s…warm, though.”

Barry nods. “That’s okay. I’m not asking for love, not this soon.”

At least he’s practical. Leonard grazes his fingernails over Barry’s scalp. “Then yes, Scarlet. I like this—being with you, being what you need. Or, hmm.” He studies the kid’s face. “You don’t need _me._ You need guidance, and you want me to give that to you.” It’s a small distinction—a matter of semantics, really—but it reassures Leonard that should something go wrong, Barry will be all right on his own. He’s not sure he could handle a completely dependent partner; he’d feel smothered before too long. Barry wants Leonard’s guidance, but he doesn’t need him. Perhaps that’s why being allowed into this position of power over him is almost as thrilling as a heist. 

“Okay.” Barry’s eyes fall closed and he melts into Leonard’s caress. “You like this, I like this. The rest of it will come as it does.”

That’s an awful lot of faith to put in fate, especially for a man who plans to the second. Barry is right, though; making endless plans for what could happen doesn’t help anything, and it detracts from the moment they’re in. “We’ll be ready when it does.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not happy with this ending, but my motivation died somewhere along the line and I haven't been able to find it again. I might come back and give it a better final chapter, but for now, here's some optimistic Barry and cautiously optimistic Len.


End file.
